line up your soldiers and she'll shoot them all down.
A bedroom door opens, and a Light steps out, and makes a beeline for the tenth floor. Hands empty - no sketchbook in sight - he's walking faster than some people would run.
He's quite himself again. Not only is there no sign that he was recently shot, but there's no sign that he spent the past year in the mansion at all. He could be alive, a different Light entirely; with all the weight he lost regained, and all the imbalances reset, he's the picture of health. He'd glow with it, if only he didn't look so very grim and cold.
His hair is still damp; it's the only sign of how hurried he was to get out of the room he nearly died in. Now it's his turn to look for someone the mansion might never let him find.
[[OOC: Aaaand he's found her. Further threads will be straight corridor meetings.]]
He's quite himself again. Not only is there no sign that he was recently shot, but there's no sign that he spent the past year in the mansion at all. He could be alive, a different Light entirely; with all the weight he lost regained, and all the imbalances reset, he's the picture of health. He'd glow with it, if only he didn't look so very grim and cold.
His hair is still damp; it's the only sign of how hurried he was to get out of the room he nearly died in. Now it's his turn to look for someone the mansion might never let him find.
[[OOC: Aaaand he's found her. Further threads will be straight corridor meetings.]]